in which the scene and characters are made known, the exactitude with
which the incidents are combined, are in constant opposition to that
poetical ideality without which the supernatural cannot take possession
of the mind. In reading the "Morte d'Arthur" we are insensibly
penetrated by an atmosphere of the marvellous which makes a giant a
natural companion, and a magic sword a necessary part of a warrior's
outfit. But Manfred and his family are so essentially human, and their
surroundings are so realistic, that the reader's sense of congruity is
shocked by the introduction of a bleeding statue or a skeleton monk.

This was evident to Miss Clara Reeve, who hoped to attain success in
the attempt to unite the romance and the novel by limiting all
supernatural occurrences to the verge of probability. It is obvious
that the line would be difficult to draw. Miss Reeve drew it at ghosts.
In the "Old English Baron," she took a story similar to that of
Walpole. She presented to the reader a castle whose real owner had been
murdered, and of which the rightful heir, ignorant of his birth, lived
as a dependent on the wrongful possessor. The story turned on the
revelation of the secret by the ghost of the murdered knight.

"God defend us!" said Edmund; "but I verily believe that the person
that owned this armor lies buried under us." Upon this a dismal,
hollow groan was heard, as if from underneath. A solemn silence
ensued, and marks of fear were visible upon all three; the groan
was thrice heard.

To the average mind of the present day Clara Reeve's ghost is not less
improbable and incredible than Walpole's gigantic helmet. If the reader
is prepared by the poetic nature of a narrative for the influence of
the supernatural, he will receive all marvels with equal ease; but if
he be not prepared, if his mind be occupied during the greater part of
the work with actual and ordinary occurrences, any supernatural event
is rejected. Miss Reeve introduced far less of the incredible than her
predecessor, but she did not approach Walpole in the adaptation of her
scenes to supernatural effects. It requires less imagination to see a
figure walk out of a portrait in the gloomy castle of Otranto, than to
hear the groan of Miss Reeve's spectre.

The incompatibility of the real and the unreal in the same work is
sufficiently shown by the course pursued by the different writers who
took part in the romantic revival. Walpole